Promises Aren't Necessary
by Artemis-chan of Redwing
Summary: Rewrite of Bridge; Five girls, five boys, life in New York at the turn of the century, and some divine (and karmic) intervention...
1. Prologue

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A/N: Okay, I'm not sure how exactly this is going to turn out, but I hope it's good. ^_^;; This is the rewrite of _Burn That Bridge When We Come To It_, in case you didn't know. I became disillusioned with _Bridge_'s intense Mary-Sue qualities, and while I'll still write it if I get in the mood, consider it on hold indefinitely. I want to try to make this better, have an actual plot (I actually have plans for this!), and not so obvious that I'm not that great of a writer.

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Disclaimer: Unless I get creative, this is the only disclaimer you get. ^_^;; I do not own the boys, nor do I really own the girls, except for Kitten. She's mine, and this idea is (hopefully) mine. ^_^;; I'm still working on that one.

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Promises Aren't Necessary

Prologue

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"Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it."~Raistlin, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

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The sign in the window identified the place at _The Lookout._ The sharp scent of the waterfront drifted through the door despite the fact that it was always closed no matter what the season. Dark curtains covered the windows-most of the clientele would not want it to be known they frequented the pace. The hours were five to five, though if one looked out the windows during operating hours, daylight was not a common sight. This establishment catered to those who favored the dark hours.

One thing that made _The Lookout_ unique was its bartender. It wasn't that the bartender was bad at the job. Rather, it was the face that she was a hard-faced girl of seventeen with bright blue eyes that could dance with laughter or swirl with anger. Her often-fiery tongue as well as her occupation earned her the nickname Brandy from the patrons.

Only one other girl worked in the establishment. For reasons she could not grasp, this small blonde was given the nickname Kitten. She really seemed too young to work in a place frequented by such jaded individuals, but at the same time they enjoyed her innocent manner. She was the only waitress, and knew all of her customers by alias if not name.

Some of their customers, after having a few drinks and maybe some food, would head down the street. There, at a house of ill repute, some would call on a girl said to be so skilled at her profession that the fires of passion and lust would consume her customers. This girl, small and blonde with dark brown eyes, knew of her skill and, while not exactly proud of it, had found that it would pay the bills. A brief chat with some of the others in the house caused her to adopt the name Pyro.

Breaking daylight would call these sated men back to the streets; back to work, to home even. Two figures on opposite corners would try to get a sale out of these men, just a penny a pape. The female of the pair often pulled up her brown hair and wheedled with the customers, pulling out her feminine charm. The male of the pair often glanced at his companion, though he would never admit it was out of worry. Though this section of town was on the very edge of his territory, he humored his partner by selling there with her. They called her Feather, for the way she moved about the streets and slums was like that of a feather brushing the surface of one's skin.

There is one last stop these men might make. _O'Grady's Livery_ often survived on the revenue these depraved souls brought in, as much as it disgusted the stable girl. Though she was barely paid, or even recognized for the work she accomplished, she continued with her job because of her love of horses. The strawberry blonde/redhead often spent her time in the stables with her head in the clouds. She answered most often to Stars.

Within each of these individuals existed at the same time hope and a denial of hope. Their lives depended on their work and their work depended on their lives. Love in any form was rare, and friendship a precious commodity.

This is not to say that they were lonely; rather let us say that life had made then jaded and only a precious few understood their positions. Take this scene of five jaded young women working for their livings.

Enter Fate and his good pal Karma.

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End Prologue


	2. Chapter One

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AN: Okay, something I forgot last chapter. The title comes from the translation of the opening theme to the anime _Vision of Escaflowne_, "Yakusoku wa Iranai." This is a great song, and I love it to pieces. Also, this will be updated when I get the chapters written. I may have a plan, but it's not all prewritten, and I'm writing it in a little notebook that I can easily take to school and other such places in case I get inspired during a Study Hall or some such thing.

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Promises Aren't Necessary

Chapter 1

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"Somebody's eyes are watching you."~Somebody's Eyes," _Footloose_

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The usual crowd began to roll in, separating to their normal tables. A few empty spaces were kept open at the bar and at a few tables near the back, also as per the norm. _The Lookout_ catered to many types, though nearly all were male. A practiced eye could easily tell through behavioral patterns one who had never walked through the old door before.

Brandy, though only eighteen, had made her life on studying people. It was part art and part science, and a good deal of listening and talking. It was easier, of course, with the customers she regularly saw, but her skill with newcomers was well appreciated, both by the customers themselves as well as her boss. His name was Will, and he owned _The Lookout_ and acted as cook.

It was early in the evening still, so Brandy was not yet heavily bogged down with orders. She kept one eye on the door unconsciously as she mixed and poured drinks. Two boys entered and took seats at an empty table. If she had been an accurate judge of age (and she was), she would have guessed the boys to be only a year or two younger than herself (which she did).

One was a vaguely familiar face to her, and she smiled when she realized that he was that boy who had been coming a few times a week. He was one of Kitten's favorite customers (she had said so herself), and the young waitress, Brandy had noticed, was always a but more cheerful when he was around. With him, though, was one who was new to the establishment. He caught her eye with the way he nervously (but with a touch of innocence) glanced around the bar, his worn cap clutched in his hands.

The had taken seats in Kitten's section (it wasn't that Kitten was the only server, merely the only girl and the only one who worked every night), and the small girl was delighted to see them. Brandy watched from the bar as Kitten hugged the "regular" and took their orders.

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"I walked my feet off yesterday and got little thanks and less tips!"~Tika Waylan, _Dragons of Autumn Twilight_

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She had just finished bringing that older gentleman with the bowler hat his food. He tipped her well, and she thanked him, carefully putting the money into her skirt pocket. She glanced around, checking her tables for more customers. There, at a table near the rear, two young men had just sat down. Resolutely, and feeling that this would be a long night, she put on her best smile and moved to greet them. As she approached she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her notebook and pencil, preparing to take the orders. "What'll it be tonight?" she asked, not looking up.

"Don' I'se even gets ta say 'hey' foist, Kitten?" The familiar voice startled her.

"Snitch!" Her eyes lit up as she recognized the tall, brown-haired newsboy in the darkened room. He was one of her favorite customers, visiting her a few times a week. She remembered clearly when he'd first entered _The Lookout_. He'd been looking lost and Kitten, seeing his discomfort, had taken a half-hour off to talk to him. He was too young, she decided, to give in to alcohol. Ever since then, they'd kept quiet about their talk, though he'd begun making a habit of stopping by when he could.

He stood and she gave him a brief hug. "How ya been, kid?" He smiled and blushed a little.

"I'se doin' foine. I'se broughta frien' tanight," he said, motioning to his companion. The other boy was shorter, but even under his loose clothes Kitten could see he had a well-defined body. His short, curly hair and large eyes, both brown, made him seem young and innocent. He stood and offered her his hand.

"I'se Mush. Pleashah ta meet ya, miss," he said politely, his tone soft.

Kitten smiled and laughed softly. "The name's Kitten, and you don't have to call me 'miss.' Most people usually don't." Though her face turned somber, no bitterness crept into her voice. In her opinion, she was simply someone to whom titles like that did not apply. Her view could be seen by some as naïve though she merely saw it as fact.

Mush looked confusedly at Snitch, but the other boy merely shook his head. 'Don't ask questions' the look said, and Snitch indicated he would explain later.

"So, what can I get ya, boys?" Kitten asked, smiling brightly.

"Two 'ah me reg'lars, Kit. We'se jus' tryin' ta relax a bit."

"I'll be back soon, den." Kitten walked away with more bounce in her step than before, and she grinned as she approached Brandy at the bar. The taller girl sighed with a smiled when she saw Kitten.

"I know you watch the door, so I know you saw 'em come in," Kitten remarked. "Dey'll 'ave two 'ah me specials, and Snitch's friend's name's Mush He's a lookah, hon." Brandy scowled in a friendly manner at her.

"Don't you go trying to set me up now. I'll find me a boy all in me own time." Brandy paused thoughtfully from mixing the drinks and glanced in the direction of the two boys. "Though he does seem nice." Kitten squealed with glee.

"I _knew_ you'd like him!" The look Brandy shot her made her calm down some.

"If want to court him, I'll do it in my own time." Brandy turned a sly look on Kitten. "What 'bout you an' Snitch? He courtin' you properly yet?"

The question caused Kitten to grow somber. "No," she said. "I don' know if he _ever_ will." Brandy immediately felt sorry for putting her in this mood and tried to cheer her up.

"Hey, now, I'm sure he'll come around soon," she said, smiling encouragingly at her. Kitten smiled weakly in return.

"I shoah hope so." The girls stood in silence for a few moments. Brandy suddenly shoved the drinks at Kitten and shooed her away from the bar. Kitten smiled gratefully at her friend as she returned to the boys a smile on her face.

"Two 'a Snitch's reg'lars," she said, placing the drinks in from of the boys. Snitch grinned at her.

"Aw, Kit, you'se da best!" Kitten tried not to let her face flush at the praise as she smiled bashfully and mumbled something about having other tables to attend to. Before the boys could protest, she'd left the alone with their drinks.

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"Never fall in love with a woman who sells herself. It always ends bad!"~Argentinean, _Moulin Rouge!_

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The door shut with a finality that made the small young woman sigh with relief. He'd been her last customer for the night. Now, she just wanted to wash up and rest. Pulling on a thin robe, she made her way out of the close, almost simplistic room in which she "entertained" men nightly. Down the hall was a small, closet-like room with a basin of water, some cleaning cloths, and extra undergarments for the girls in the house.

"Pyro?" She froze at the voice, her hand clenching her robe where she'd begun to pull it off her shoulders. Slowly, she turned to face the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was unintentionally harsh, and the boy on the threshold flinched slightly.

"I'se came ta see ya befoir I'se sells taday." He was taller than her, his dark surly hair half-hidden beneath his cap. Pyro sighed, letting a small smile cross her lips.

"Itey, you know not to visit me here. We could be in so much trouble…" She crossed the room in a few steps, standing close to him.

"I'se know." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I jus' had ta see ya. You'se makes it woith getting' up in da moinin'."

Pyro merely smiled a jaded smile and led him to the rear of the building. "Don't sneak in again like that," she admonished as she watched him leave. "I don' want you to get in trouble over me. I'm not worth it." The boy, nicknamed for his obvious Italian ancestry, merely grinned.

"You'se always woith it, Pyro." She watched in stunned silence as he left to begin his day.

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"There's lots more poor folk than rich folk and it's easier to get money out of 'em."~Gunilla, _The Truth_

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"Mass moider in da Bronx! Police baffled!" The small form holding the papers, it seemed, could not possibly be the owner of the loud, powerful voice yelling the headlines, yet this was the case. The girl, medium sized, looked across the street to her unofficial partner. _He_ was a far more imposing figure, though only slightly larger than herself.

"Feath, you'se almos' done 'ere?" She looked at the diminishing crowd before replying.

"Yeah, Spot, shoah looks dat way." The boy crossed the street to her.

"C'mon, den, let's get outta here." With a shrug, Feather had no choice but to follow.

"Wheah we goin', Spot?" she asked, catching up to him.

"'Hattan. I'se gots ta talk wid Jacky-boy 'bout some t'ings." Spot led her silently to Manhattan. It took the remainder of their morning, but Feather was not really sorry. Sure, she wasn't really selling her papes except to the occasional passer-by, but she was, in a sense, seeing the city with Spot. She would have smiled, but that wasn't how Spot's Newsies acted.

They found Jack, unsurprisingly; eating with his boys in a small restaurant interestingly named Tibby's. Spot pushed open the door, and with a small jangle a cacophony of sound washed over them.

Spot strode purposely to Jack and Feather rushed to follow. With a sigh, she grabbed a chair next to a small Italian boy with a cigar in his mouth and proceeded to tune out every other noise but Spot's voice.

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Did you ever see an unhappy horse? Did you ever see a bird that has the blues? One reason why birds and horses are not unhappy is because they are not trying to impress other birds and horses. ~Dale Carnegie 

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Silence. Well, moderate silence. The barn, with its horses, could never quite reach that state of absolute soundlessness. Stars didn't mind though. The animals, all several times her size and weight, brought a comforting presence to her. They understood her in a way few people ever had.

She hummed tunelessly to herself as she began doling out the evening feed. Unnoticed, a figure entered the stable and stood, watching her. Stars continued her task, oblivious to the newcomer. He cleared his throat.

Slowly, so as to not startle the horses, she turned to face him. Her eyes widened in surprise and she fought, quickly, silently, against hiding.

"Can I help you?" she asked, forcing the politeness into her voice, eyes icy. He shifted uncomfortably.

"I…uh…I'se jus' wanna talk to yah," he mumbled. With a huff she turned away.

"Well, I don't want to talk with you, Jack. Jus…just get back to 'Hattan where you belong." Harshly, Stars continued doling out food.

"Stars…" His plaintive call caused her to scowl.

"I said leave, Jack!" She kept her back to him, and her shoulders relaxed when she heard him quietly leave the stable. Pausing and calming considerably, Stars leaned against the nearest post.

"Why does he do this to me? She asked the horse softly. It merely gazed at her in silence.

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~owari chapter one

Shouts! ****

Luna: Dear, just keep reading. That's all I'll say. ^_~ Love you!

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Brownie/Melody: Thanks! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, dear.

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Cassie: Dear…I don't' know what to say to you, except that sucking up to me in reviews doesn't really work. ^_~

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Teepot: Thanks! I'm glad you liked that. I was trying for something different, and I'm glad it worked. ^_^

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Ershy: Hey, chapters'll be up when they are. I make absolutely no promises with this one…and that pun was SO not intended. ^_^;; Thanks for being my first review here!


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